


Fire and ice

by fileg



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fileg/pseuds/fileg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have had this small scene trying to get out of my head since I re-read the climbing of Caradhras and wondered how, in all the years I have been reading this book, I had failed to see this quote of Boromir's... An exorcism, so I can sleep. A first draft. Opinions welcome</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and ice

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Pippinâ€™s heart still raced, though he walked with measured pace beside the Guardsman in black and the Wizard in white, and the bier upon which they carried the flushed and fevered body of Gondorâ€™s new Steward. The tang of oil clung to his skin; the cloying smell of burning, and the grit of ash was everywhere, inescapable, drowning his senses.

In his mind, Pippin was still seeing the old Steward, eyes agleam with flame. He sprang forward, reckless in his madness, brandishing a knife in his right hand and a torch in his left as he stretched out his arms toward his fallen son.

The fine hair on Pipâ€™s arms and neck rose in a chill that tried to make a lie of all the burning. He felt his heart blaze now with cold, as his hands and face had on Caradhras, long ago, in the swirling, blinding, snow.

The stewardâ€™s other son stood suddenly beside him, sheltering him and Merry with his body and his cloak from the winds that blew across the Redhorn. Wraping his arms about them, he begged for their comfort, knowing it would come at a cost.

"What do you say to fire?â€ he heard Boromir ask Gandalf. â€œThe choice seems now between fire and death.â€

Looking down at Faramirâ€™s smudged and sweaty face, Pippin could not understand how a father could make such a choice.


End file.
